Alex Reed woke up with the mother of all hangovers, except he hadn't touched a drop last night.
His head throbbed like someone had used it as a speed bag, and the ceiling fan above him turned in a slow, precise circle. Too smooth, too quiet, like it was waiting.
He groaned, rolled onto his side, and reached for his phone resting on the polished wood of the nightstand. 7:42 AM. Thursday.
But something felt… off.
The apartment was exactly as it should be. Clean hardwood floors. Tall windows framed in black steel, curtains half drawn against the early light.
A tasteful couch, a glass coffee table without a single fingerprint, a neat stack of urban fantasy novels arranged instead of abandoned. Everything spoke of stability. Comfort. Control.
And yet the air felt heavy, dense, pressing down on his chest, like the instant before the sky splits open, when the wind stills and the world holds its breath.
Alex lay there, staring at the ceiling, certain of one thing.
Whatever was coming didn't care how nice the apartment was.
Then it hit him.
A torrent of memories that belonged to him, but from a future that hadn't happened yet. He saw the entire arc of a web novel titled Light of Salvation: The Ascendant Saintess unfold in his mind, not as a reader, but as someone living it.
Alex Reed.
That was his name in the book.
He bolted upright, heart hammering.
"No. No way. This is a dream. A really detailed, really screwed up dream."
He pinched his arm. Hard. It hurt.
The memories kept coming. Victoria Blackwell, heiress to the ancient Blackwell bloodline, mistress of shadow magic, future ruler of New York's hidden supernatural underworld. Cold, beautiful, untouchable.
And him. Her personal assistant, errand boy, human shield. Destined to die dramatically in her arms during the final battle against the Saintess, all while whispering some cringeworthy last words about undying loyalty.
Alex laughed. It came out hysterical.
"I'm not real. I'm cannon fodder. I'm literal cannon fodder in a bad web novel."
As if on cue, crimson text materialized in the air in front of him, glowing like fresh blood.
[ Ding! ]
[ Villainess Protection & Corruption System Activated! ]
Host: Alex Reed
Status: Disposable Sidekick, Blackwell Retainer Level 1
Core Directive:
You must commit more evil deeds than Victoria Blackwell at all times.
Prevent Victoria Blackwell from reaching her canonical ending, execution by holy light.
>Failure Penalty of (1): High testicular pain on the amount of a point difference.
>Failure Penalty of (2): Permanent castration across this life and all future reincarnations. Soul bound impotence curse. No appeals.
>Success Rewards: Power beyond mortal limits. Shadow dominion. Forbidden arts. Everything you need to survive this story.
Alex stared at the floating words, mouth dry.
He read the penalty again.
Then a third time.
"…You're joking."
The system did not joke. A timer appeared in the corner of his vision.
Time until first evaluation: 23 hours, 59 minutes, 47 seconds.
He jumped out of bed, paced the apartment, and ran his hands through his messy brown hair.
"Okay. Okay. Think, Alex. You've read a thousand of these system stories. The MC always gets some broken skill and becomes OP. I can do this. I'll just do some light evil. Steal a candy bar. Kick a pigeon. Whatever."
His phone buzzed on the bed.
A text from an unknown number.
>V. Blackwell: Reed. My office. 9 AM sharp. Do not be late again.
His stomach dropped.
Victoria Blackwell was summoning him.
In the novel, this was the exact day the plot kicked into gear. The day Victoria decided to accelerate her plan to awaken an ancient eldritch entity beneath Manhattan, which would later lead to her downfall.
But more importantly, this was the day she committed her first major on page crime. Orchestrating the accidental death of a rival bloodline heir at a charity gala tonight.
If she went through with that, her evil score would skyrocket.
And if Alex didn't top it…
He glanced at the system timer.
24hours, 58 minutes.
He exhaled shakily. "Great. My balls are on a countdown."
Another text arrived.
>V. Blackwell: And bring coffee. Black, no sugar. If it's wrong again, I'll castrate you.
Alex stared at the screen.
For the first time in his life, he smiled. A sharp, slightly unhinged smile.
"Castrate me? Why the hell is the universe obsessed with castrating me!"
He grabbed his jacket, checked his reflection. Hazel eyes. The kind of face that stood out from crowds. Handsome. And headed for the door.
Outside, New York hummed with oblivious morning traffic.
Taxis honked.
Steam rose from subway grates. Somewhere beneath it all, ley lines pulsed with ancient power that only a few could see.
Alex stepped into the chaos, the system window flickering in his peripheral vision like a devil on his shoulder.
From today, he was going to commit more crime.
And in the future, he'd make sure Victoria Blackwell stayed alive, even if it meant becoming the biggest bastard the city had ever seen.